What was i thinking?

Many of you will be aware that I went back to work recently. Well, i’m working a contract, but hopefully there’ll be more where that came from. You see, I’d been off work for over 2 years. I’d struggled at first, I mean, really really struggled, and then I’d slowly begun to accept that maybe I would be at home until the youngest was at school. And I was okay with it. I had the routine down, had lowered my expectations of what kind of mother I could be (flawed), and I was starting to settle. Yes, JUST starting to settle after 2 years, let’s just say it had been one bleedin’ long bedding in period. Yes i was still a bit jaded, mouthed off once in a while about why women couldn’t have it all, but I was living with it. Struggling with my identity, going through some kind of third life crisis, but living with it all the same.

But then i went back to work, and i’ve got to say – WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Me, Milk, a full time mum? 14 hours a day, non stop fetching, cleaning, cooking, wiping, mopping, shrieking? It’s just too bloody difficult. It’s not me. I’m too impatient, petulant, easily bored, obsessive, emotional, – goddamn too bloody tired most of the time to do all that.

My life suddenly has more balance. I have children days and work days. Weekdays and weekend days. Work clothes, sloppy clothes and, goddamn it, i now even have sexy clothes (and a sexy new fringe may I add). But seriously, this IS me. I think I might have lost myself for a while back there. Convinced myself i was someone else because, well, i had to.

But do you know what? I might have found it difficult, I might be happier having some me time and ponsing on a bit about monetising content and defining user journeys, but I jolly well did prove i COULD do the stay at home mum thing if I really really had to. Just pretty please don’t make me do it again.

Get back to work Milk!

I got a message while i was living the highlife at Haven from an old friend of mine i used to work with in my Manchester/Liverpool days. He needed someone to help him deliver a marketing project for 3-4 months and he thought i’d be ideal.

Ego – kerching!

So there i was muddling along quite happily, having dealt with some of my own demons over the past year or so, and finally settling down into the life of a SAHM. I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact i would probably be doing it until the littlest was at school, and i was okay with it. Sort of. Then i got the phonecall, and i saw the job description and these butterflies starting fluttering around in my stomach that i thought had long dissipated. A part of me that had been hibernating for a few years, initially subdued by force, seemingly lounging in acquiescent slumber. I realised that maybe my career drive hadn’t quite left me, temporarily or otherwise.

I was immediately up for it. More than that actually. I felt a sudden selfish urge. Sod the kids. How was i going to make this happen?

Ok so my motherly instincts did kick back in at some point, and i starting weighing everything up and working things through sensibly. And luckily i was able to make sense of it all and put the relevant plans into place.

So i start this week. Exciting. Coffee breaks and heels, what more could a woman want?

And i never knew its appeal until an opportunity came and smacked me in the face.

Now i’ve just got to work on the husband. He’s got off scot free on the homemaker front these past few years. I’ll have to get his marigolds back out and clean his pinnie. The nice one with the breasts on it.

We’re going back to the interesting and befuzzled division of roles of the modern-day world for a bit. Wish me luck!

Remember your obligations woman!

First, read this:

Tough life for stay at home mums?

I’d love to throw this woman to a lion’s den full of us blogging mothers and see how she got on for just a minute. As if filling the dishwasher was the hardest thing we encounter on a daily basis.

BUT, if you can, pick your jaw off the floor for a minute and try and see past the misogynistic and deeply patronising undertones in this article. If you can do that (and it will take some doing) she does raise a very interesting question that i think is worthy of some discussion.

Now come on we’re adults here, stop calling Ms Schlessinger a *tch for just one second and listen.

If you know a bit about me you’ll know i’ve been pretty hacked off recently at realising that I couldn’t have it all. Or at least i wasn’t prepared for all the sacrifices i’d need to make to get there. I do feel a bit that women have shot themselves in the foot . Not that women shouldn’t have all the rights and opportunies that men have, but that so much is now expected of women. To pursue their own ambition and achieve professional success, whilst still (in most instances) raising a family and submitting to that huge responsibility. We’re not HAVING it all, we’re just DOING it all.

And of course, this expectation and drive comes from nowhere stronger than within. The critical voice saying that we must do it all, have it all, or we risk sullying the name of those that went before us and fought for our freedom.

We’re raised to believe, as women, that we can do anything, achieve anything if we shout loud enough and are single minded enough to compete against the men. Only to find ourselves later struggling to over-ride the urge for self fulfillment, to downplay our own needs and wants when a child is born. Are these two drivers, one selfish, the other selfless, ultimately in conflict?

And so, returning to the lovely Ms Schlessinger for a minute do we just expect too much nowadays? Are we too selfish in our pursuits? Have we become all about the having rather than the doing?

People will say rightly so. But returning to me just for a second (yeay my favourite subject) this having/being/wanting over doing hasn’t made me very happy has it? I wanted a successful career, a happy family and it’s smarted a bit that i couldn’t have it all. And actually, in some small way my life has been simpler, less stressful, calmer since i embraced my SAHM status and stopped rallying against the responsibility that i sometimes feel is suffocating the selfish me.

So should we just get on with it and stop moaning? Put our children first without questioning where that leave s us?

Now we’ve pondered that for a bit, good. You take her arms and I’ll take her legs. You in the corner, get those pooey nappies ready for hurling. Right. One. Two. Three….

Come on. As if my day could get any worse.

“On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points”

A truism tweeted by @twowitwowoo this morning, except i might be tempted to substitute in a less polite word for fellow.

Life as a stay at home mum can be really hard. I know there’ll be those of you rolling your eyes at this stage, refusing to believe it. SAHMs just sit all day long and chat, change a few nappies, then chat some more. Don’t they?

Let me tell you that you’re wrong. There are perks, obviously. Mostly logisitical, and involving DHL, but they are often outweighed by the daily physical and emotional traumas.

Yes, T-R-A-U-M-A. I did say that. (i adore my kids btw before someone tries to suggest shopping me to the social again, citing child hatred issues).

Good, i’m glad we’ve got that straight.

Right, back to the observant *ckers. So, if a SAHM’s life can bend towards the traumatic now and then, why is it that some people seem intent on pushing you that little bit further towards the precipice?

This is a snapshot of some of the things i’ve had to endure recently, at times in my daily adventures where i was about at my emotional limit.

Scene 1: Doctor’s surgery, 1 hr after arriving. Mummy milk, as always, treading the fine line between letting the boys (4 and 2) do what they want (running up and down the corridor) and screaming because i have tried to put a stop to it.

Old woman “Can’t you control your children?”

Mummy Milk “No, why don’t you show me how it’s done.”

Scene 2: Having tempted, threatened, forcefully removed the children from the park, Mummy Milk is attempting to put child no.2 in car from roadside on busy main road, selflessly risking her life in the process.

Tutting cyclist “Now that’s really sensible, isn’t it? B-R-A-V-O!!” (audible tut)

Mummy Milk “**** off. There are 2 of them. Somebody goes in from the roadside.” (Yes, sometimes, just sometimes at the peak of my torment I swear).

Scene 3: Grandma Milk’s house. Baby asleep in car, mummy milk carefully watching from house window. (Baby has screamed all the way there, has finally fallen asleep exhausted, frazzled Mummy Milk just couldn’t bear to wake him up)

Community support officer “Is this your baby? *rolls eyes*

Mummy Milk “Umm yes, I was just taking shopping inside” (little white lie, instantly on defensive)

Community support officer “You’re not doing anything wrong legally, but as a father myself, I would never ever do anything like this. Anyone could break the window and steal your baby”

Mummy Milk “With all due respect, if it isn’t a legal issue, i’m not interested in parenting advice from you.” (i’ll mention at this point that he was all of about 24)

Community support officer, continuing in condescending tone with the kind of self-righteousness that comes from wearing a uniform “Well you really should have taken the baby in first, and then got the shopping”.

Mummy Milk (really losing her rag now) “OK smart-arse, if i did it your way, just who would watch my son while i came back outside to get the shopping? Would you rather he crawl to the top of the downward flight of stairs and hurl himself kamikaze off them like a baby base jumper in training? ”

Why is it so important for people to be right, that their smugness overides their human instinct to be sensitive to someone having a bad day?

If only they could all be like that 80 yr old grandma I met the other day who, on seeing me struggling to strap the youngest into the buggy, marched over saying “Just wait there luv”, promptly placed knee to stomach and held him down while i fastened the straps. (For all you shocked childless people out there, just you wait and see what technique you use to get your screaming child into a buggy).

One of the things i’ve learnt as a parent. Never judge. You never know what you might end up having to do in any given situation. It’s almost always what you vowed you would never ever do in a million years before you had children.

Ok, who am i kidding? I judge all the time.

Just don’t ever say it out loud.